


Pressure

by MacPherson



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Grantaire's POV, M/M, Truth or Dare, and I don't mean freedom, first person POV, rating for copious use of the F word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacPherson/pseuds/MacPherson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wouldn’t expect someone whose personality has such hard edges to have such soft hands.</p><p>Based on this prompt: ok so i just really want to see enjolras dared to kiss grantaire and enjolras insists that he’ll only do it if r consents to be kissed and r’s like “um ok” and trying to be casual about it while internally freaking out<br/>and then enjolras gently gently gently takes r’s face in his hands and he leans in and kisses him softly and chastely for just a moment or two and then pulls back, blushing, and asks r if that was ok<br/>and he sounds so sincere but r’s just totally flabbergasted and doesn’t know what to say or do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Murf1307](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/gifts).



> For Murf. Happy early birthday, I guess. The fact that this exists is entirely your fault.

I knew it was a bad idea going in, but no one has ever accused me of having good self-preservation instincts.

“Truth or dare, Enjolras?” Marius asked in a voice barely more than a squeak as the Fearless Leader scowled. 

Everyone but the human puppy Courf found two weeks ago knew exactly where this was going. 

Courfeyrac draped his arm around his new roommate’s shoulders. “Oh, my poor boy, you have not been informed of the House Rules, have you? I apologize for this oversight. Feuilly? Would you care to explain?”

“It’s all Combeferre’s fault, really.”

“I object to that accusation.”

“Overruled.” Feuilly sighed and took a swig of his beer. “Enjolras would only pick Truth, and last year Combeferre asked him what he thought of how the Geneva Conventions had been applied over the last fifteen years. They went on for three hours. The rest of us fell asleep. Such a party foul. So House Rules state that Enjolras can only do Dares now. And because we are a democracy, we voted on it. It was eight to one, and I’m sure you can guess who the lone dissenter was.”

Enjolras crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. There are times his attractiveness is flat out obnoxious, and this was one of them.

Enjolras pouting should be a violation of the fucking Geneva Conventions.

“Uh, okay.” Marius sputtered. “Um…”

Courf leaned over and whispered in his ear.

Marius turned redder than a Soviet flag with rosacea.

“I can’t do that!” He hissed, very pointedly not looking at Enjolras.

Courf tilted his head and raised his eyebrows and batted his lashes. No one is immune to Courf’s puppy dog eyes. Seriously. Send him to the Middle East. You’ll have peace in half an hour.

“Okay. Okay.” Marius took a few deep breaths.

I picked at the carpet.

Dude, Marius, put us out of our misery and just spit it out. It’s Truth or Dare, not a war crimes tribunal.

“Enjolras, I dare you to kiss Grantaire.”

You know that feeling you get when you’re looking at one thing, but you know without having to look at them that everyone around you has just swiveled to look at you to gauge your reaction?

Yeah, that’s what happened.

Everyone was staring at me, but my eyes snapped to Enjolras.

He’s like a fucking magnet, I tell you.

People who don’t know his facial expressions as well as I do wouldn’t have noticed it because his emotions are so rehearsed, but Enjolras’ eyes were wider than usual. The look he gets when things aren’t going his way and he doesn’t feel in control anymore. It’s as close as he ever gets to being scared.

Great. The thought of being coerced into kissing me terrified him.

“Grantaire, how do you feel about this?”

Oh God. I hate it when he looks at me like that, with expectation in his eyes.

I mean, more often than not the expectation is that I’ll fail, because more often than not I do, but still.

Fuck. Shit. Bastard. Gah. “I… um... I… wouldn’t mind, I guess?”

“The absence of a no is not a yes, R.”

“This is really not the best time for the consent lecture, Enjolras.”

“Yes it is—if you don’t want to kiss me, you shouldn’t be pressured into it. I’m not going to force intimate physical contact on you because of a stupid party game if this isn’t what you want.”

“Oh my God, you guys,” Courfeyrac cut in, “I hardly even care anymore if you even go through with it, just make up your fucking minds so we can keep this going.”

“Wait, hold on—“ _fuck me with a chainsaw this is a terrible idea_. “Okay.”

“Are you sure?” 

_Breathe, you idiot._ “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

Enjolras, so help me, crawled across the open space in the middle of the circle, and came to a halt on his knees in front of me.

I placed my cup on the floor and rested my hands on my knees.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay… um…”

He shifted forward a bit, his forehead almost against mine, and gently, _so very gently_ , placed his hands on either side of my neck.

You wouldn’t expect someone whose personality has such hard edges to have such soft hands.

His thumbs rested against my jaw, fingers gently curving around my neck, index fingers sliding up to that weird bony spot right behind my ears.

“Okay,” he whispered softly—so soft I’m pretty sure I was the only one who could hear him—and exhaled—his breath smelled of tacos and Twizzlers and the one Sam Adams that he finished two hours ago—and then he leaned in for the kill.

I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.

It was hardly more than a peck and it could only have lasted about four seconds tops, but those four seconds managed to be simultaneously the longest and shortest of my life.

He pulled his head back a little and gave me the Serious Tell Me The Truth eyes. “Was that okay? Are you okay?”

It took all of the already meager amount of self-control I had to nod slightly and choke out a “yeah” in response.

I mean, it’s a total cliché to say that I barely notice anyone else when Enjolras is in the room, but in that moment, a purple elephant on roller skates could have glided in and played a concerto on the bassoon and I don’t think I would have noticed.

“Alright, Enjolras, your turn! Who are you going to pick as your victim?” Courfeyrac cried. 

He cleared his throat. “Combeferre. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth!” Combeferre was lying on his back on the floor, arms under his head, smirking.

“Okay. You’re in a garden. You see an ornate moth and a peppered moth. There’s a hungry bat flying around overhead, and it’s going to eat one of the moths, but you can save the other one. Which one do you choose to save?”

“You _bastard_ that’s like Sophie’s fucking choice. I mean, on the one hand, the ornate…”

It took Combeferre almost half an hour to answer the question.

The game went on for a while longer, but we eventually called it quits around one in the morning, when Bossuet fell asleep in the middle of his turn.

We all sort of settled in where we were—after years of friendship we were used to sleeping on each other’s living room furniture.

But my insomnia was getting the best of me. Again.

After two hours of tossing and turning and listening to Courfeyrac snore, I decided _fuck this_ and went out to smoke on the fire escape.

“Hey.”

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“Oh. Hey.” I stamped out my cigarette.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Enjolras asked.

“You know me. Night owl extraordinaire.”

He nodded, and leaned against the railing. 

“Listen, R, about earlier…”

Oh fuck. This was going to be the retraction.

“…I hope you didn’t feel pressured. Really.”

“I didn’t. I mean, it’s Truth or Dare. There were bound to be some weird moments.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Enjolras, really, you don’t need to worry that you coerced me or anything. You didn’t. I would…” Halfway through the sentence, I realized I was about to say something even more stupid and self-destructive than usual, and so I awkwardly trailed off.

I might have the self-preservation instincts of a lemming, but I don’t have a fucking death wish.

“You would what?”

“Never mind.”

“R…”

“I’d rather not talk about this.”

“You are really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

I snorted, and stuck an unlit cig behind my ear. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“Gran _taire_. I’m trying to have an actual conversation about the emotional ramifications of what transpired during this evening’s festivities.”

“Small words, please, Enjolras, it’s three in the morning.”

He sighed and took a step closer to me. “I didn’t want it to be like that. I mean, in front of everyone, basically forced into it. But I guess we’re both so fucking stubborn and stupidly proud and probably emotionally stunted that neither of us was going to do anything about it until we were forced to.”

I let that sink in for a moment, really wishing that I had drunk more. I mean, I was actually pretty much sober.

Enjolras stared at his hands, gripping the railing. His hands, which only a few hours ago had been _on me_ , more tender than I thought he was capable of being.

“Grantaire…” he rasped. “It’s kind of freaking me out that you aren’t saying anything.”

“I’m just… I’m confused.”

“I want to kiss you. Again. Because I genuinely want to. And I’m hoping that’s what you want, too.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“For my own peace of mind, is that a yes, a no, a not now…?”

“That’s a yes. An enthusiastic hell yes.”

“Good.”

I blinked, and he was standing right in front of me, reaching out, one hand to my waist and the other to the back of my head.

And then his lips were on mine and I was drowning, but I was floating and flying and there were fireworks going off in my chest.

One short little kiss shouldn’t leave you feeling that breathless, but there was no way in hell I was going to complain.

He gently nipped my lower lip as he pulled away, the tease, and rested his forehead on mine.

I could get used to this, but I felt like I never really would. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Courfeyrac is never going to let us live this down, you know.”

He let out a booming laugh—oh, that’s a nice sound, I’ll have to figure out how to make that happen more often—and pulled me closer. “You know, as long as I get to keep kissing you, I don’t really think I’ll mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Am I capable of writing a fic that doesn’t consist of snarky discussions of consent and panicky inner monologues from Grantaire? Apparently not.
> 
> I wrote this in one sitting in the middle of the night and I’ve barely re-read it, so if there’s anything seriously wrong with it, please let me know.
> 
> Based on this prompt on Tumblr: http://lecapunk.tumblr.com/post/63789905771/ok-so-i-just-really-want-to-see-enjolras-dared-to
> 
> And I'm missmarionmac on Tumblr--come say hi! I only bite on Tuesdays.


End file.
